


Dark Pink

by Paranormal_Shitness



Category: Batman (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Identity Porn, M/M, More plot than porn, Slow Burn, cross dressing, everyone's dissociating, gender questioning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 12:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11185554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paranormal_Shitness/pseuds/Paranormal_Shitness
Summary: Bruce's niece would be a perfect target for a group of kidnappers hunting the daughters of rich and elite Gotham socialites. That is if he had a niece.





	1. Chapter 1

It's a short dress. She's a short girl.

The dark lines of Gotham on the water. Sky on metal and concrete. Asphalt reaching up to kiss knees and the soles of feet dancing over it.

The dark lines of makeup on her eyes. Skin on metal and taffeta. Aspirers reaching up to kiss knees and the soles of feet dancing over them.

Bruce reaches out and takes her hand. The bobbles on her bracelet clink against each other as he helps her out of the car.

There are cameras watching. There's the feeling of panic in her throat. Press pressing in on either side. Her heeled shoe nearly throws her face first onto the carpet, but Bruce catches her.

'People,' Bruce says, standing in front of her on the podium with a smile and a good sense of humor. 'I know you're excited, but settle down.'

Questions. Murmurs. The sound of the waves in the harbor but whispered by human voices.

'-introduce my young cousin Tiffany, who I will be caring for while she attends highschool in the city.'

What did Britney Spears say? That line Dick was so fond of.

All eyes on me. At the center of a ring.

The reporters all back flipped and curtsied for their exclusive.

Just like a circus.

-

'Tim,' Bruce barks, and the feeling of the ground under his bare feet rushes back in like being doused in cold water. He's shivering, naked, and wet in the cave. Bruce standing just outside the shower door, looking at him with hard eyes. 'Focus.'

Hair, and makeup.

He doesn't want it to seem like he knows as much as he does. He's never done this before. He's never enjoyed this.

'There,' Bruce says in that voice that's halfway between bat and man.

She's beautiful. 

'You'll be enrolling in Gotham Heights High as Tiffany-Jo Anne Wayne. You're a young heiress in the family. Your mother's maiden name was Shinpe. She was a member of a lesser known Gotham family that made their money running a brewery and stills straight through prohibition. Their mob ties have all dried out, like the Waynes, leaving them bloated, comfortable, and complacent without many active money making ventures in their name. You're coming to the city to make friends and feel like a normal girl. You, and your family, are completely unaware of the recent slew of kidnappings targeting the daughters of Gotham's high society families.'

'Right,' Tim says, watching Tiffany's lips move along with his voice.

'Work on that,' Bruce instructs him.

'Right,' Tim says again, higher this time, voice sounding forced and awkward.

'No.'

'Right,' Tim insists, and it doesn't feel like he's the one talking when he says it.

Bruce nods. 'Good.'

-

School is another shit show. They line up on the edge of the parking lot to see Bruce drop her off in the morning. 

This dress is longer. But still short.

The edges of her fingers don't quite brush the hem when she puts her arm down straight and extends them. 

Dress code length. Exactly.

She's toeing a line Tim never asked to toe.

But she's not Tim.

No one looking at her would even think that.

-

'We don't know much about them,' Bruce tells the computer screen as he flips through pages in his open file. 

'Lot of writing for 'we don't know much,' Tiffany says. 

Bruce's head snaps to her on a swivel, eyes wide, pinning her on the spot. He does that when he's angry. Like some kind of feral cat. 

The cave is silent around them in that yawning, staring moment and the silence hums. In the distance some bats chatter at one another for space on the vaulted ceilings.

Tim would never have said that.

'We take the notes we can,' Bruce says through grit teeth.

Tiffany doesn't flinch.

She blinks, and he glares, and turns his face back to the screen. 

'They're a mid sized group. 20 - 30. They have no known base of operations as of yet, but have been found working in packs of three to four in rented warehouses on the docks. They kidnap young wealthy girls and hold them for ransom befor selling them to an unknown buyer regardless of cooperation.'

-

It's one of those bucolic days. Gotham Heights has never looked like the city. Too scenic, and green. Not smothered by the choking smog of factories. It has the feeling though. Something just not quite right in the earth. Like uncanny roots have grown up into the walls of every building and home.

'You're the new girl right?' someone asks her.

Tiffany cocks her head, and cascades of perfectly curled hair fall over her shoulder. 'Something like that,' she says, and she says it flirty. Like it's a joke.

'Do you get your hair done by someone?' the girl next to the one who'd spoken asks.

'Yeah,' Tiffany admits sheepishly. 'Bruce says he wants me to be able to make friends here, so he's really spoiling me.'

They burst out into a chorus of giggles and excitement. Girls are excited by money, fancy cars, and press releases. Girls are excited by Bruce Wayne. They probably go home, and listen in on their mother's book clubs or luncheons where they talk about bagging bigger money. Like Bruce Wayne.

Tiffany is about to be superficially popular. She smiles. It's all she's ever wanted. To feel like a normal girl who's wanted for nothing more than her money and connections.

-

Bruce's fingers, press white at the tips and red at the quicks to the form as he signs it. The sound of his pen rings hard through the sheet right onto the Principal's desk top.

The man smiles at Tiffany with nervous delight. His expression says: 'Real old money! In our school!' It's tiresome.

She rolls her eyes out the window.

'And she can start tomorrow?' Bruce asks.

Birds twittering on a branch outside the window. Sunlight dappled on the lawn, falling over a couple of girls joking while they write in their notebooks.

'Um,' The man says, wringing chubby little hands, and kissing his thin lips together. 'Usually Ms. Shirnpe-Wayne would start today.'

'Just Wayne,' Tiffany deadpans. She pops her bubblegum after she says it. For emphasis.

Bruce's hand is heavy on her shoulder as he tells her to stand down without so much as casting a glance in her direction. She shrugs it off impetuously, and pops the gum again.

His sunglasses are impassive as he studies the little man across the desk. 'Tiffany has some business today. But she's free for an orientation tomorrow,' he says pleasantly, but unwaveringly. With no room for wiggling, error, or margin.

The little man - not little in stature, or person, but position - nods his balding head and says 'Well that's understandable.'

The shame of witnessing his piddling rolls Tiffany's eyes back out the window.

-

'So how long are you staying with him?' Emily asks.

Tiffany rolls her shoulder. 'Probably for the year,' she says.

'Oh why?' Deirdre asks.

'I'm not supposed to talk about it.'

Heeled shoes beside sneakers in linoleum hallways. Hands on hands and knees and book bags.

'Is it something scandalous?' The last girl, Tiffany can't remember her name.

Tiffany smiles. Someone shouts something over their heads.

'Maybe a little.'

The girls around her all gasp at essentially the same time.

-

'Do you have to be so petulant?' Bruce asks as the car door slams shut behind him.

'If I didn't, you'd think I'd stop,' Tiffany says, propping her low heels up on Bruce's dashboard.

He glares at her thighs above the rims of his sunglasses a moment. Doesn't mention it. Eyes already on the pavement.

'I didn't realize you were a brat.'

She rubs her knees together. 'I did get expelled,' She says.

'Oh,' Bruce retorts. 'Did you?'

'Yeah,' Tiffany says. Her accent's a bit harder than Tim's. A Bit more tangibly Gotham. It shows in her 'e's and her 'a's.

Bruce raises an eyebrow at her, and pulls out of the parking lot.

-

The chatter of the classroom is comfortable. Tim had been in this class when he was at GHH. Same teacher. Same period. It feels almost a little too coincidental, but there's no way the Principal knows. No one seems to have spotted her either. No recognition.

That's when she notices Karl Rank turn in his seat, and eye her strangely. His lips thin as he leans over to whisper something into his friend's ear. 

Tiffany's lips thin as she suddenly becomes deeply fascinated by her desk.

Emily leans over and hisses, 'I think Karl is checking you out.'

'Who?' Tiffany asks.

'Karl,' Emily reiterates. 

Tiffany follows the line of her pointing finger visually to look at Karl like she's never seen him in her life before.

He catches her eye and smiles. 

What an idiot.

She sticks her tongue out at him as the bell rings.

'Okay, so,' Mr Sutterson says, clapping his big, meaty hands together. 'As many of you know we have a new student. Tiffany-Jo-'

Tiffany stomps her shoes as she stands out of her desk. 'Tiffany,' she corrects a little too loudly. Then, realizing, that probably seems bitchy, she gasps. 'Sorry. Just Tiffany.'

'Alright then,' Mr. Sutterson says. 'Tiffany, uh, Wayne. is joining us all today. You're Bruce Wayne's-'

'Cousin,' Tiffany says. 'Well my mom's his cousin. I'm a generation removed,' she says, with an amused sort of huff. It's nerve wracking standing there with everyone- Smiling -at her.

Mr Sutterson laughs with her. 'Great,' he says with a genuine seeming smile. All for money, Tim reminds her in her head. 'As most of you know, Mr. Wayne is one of our school's largest benefactors. In fact the Wayne family has supported Gotham Heights High for generations, and the auditorium is actually named after one of the senior Waynes, Mr. Arginald Wayne, who was you're-'

'Great-great-great-uncle,' Tiffany says.

'Alright, Tiffany you can sit down,' Mr. Sutterson says then. 

She does, but the way he said it makes her feel like a dog getting dismissed to the backyard.

'Role call!'

-

The car door opens with that weird suction noise of it's seal breaking and Bruce sticks a leg out. 'Wait here,' He says.

Tiffany pops her gum at him.

The door shuts and the car beeps as he locks it.

'Hey!,' she shouts, but he's already meeting someone outside.

Wrestling with the door locks is useless. She gives up to pout.

Hot tarmac outside leaves waves across her vision. Bruce puts his hand out to shake someone else's, but she can't see faces. Not that she cares.

Her phone is more interesting.

Bruce made her a twitter from an old dummy account. His mistake.

She types: Bruce Weenie is a boob. Hits 'post'.

Cicadas and a crash of heat as he opens the door again.

Tiffany throws her eyes scant to glare at him.

'We're done,' he tells her and slides into his seat. She watches him take off his tie.

'What did 'we' do here, exactly?' she asks.

He hands her a birth certificate.

'Oh.'

'Mm,' he says. 'Now we have a mall date.'

-

Nothing happens. She feels like something should be happening. Like everyone should be playing their hands by now but they're not. Or maybe she's just not good enough to notice. Her eyes feel like someone's been at them with a pairing knife. Peeled. Her ears hurt from listening. All while pretending she's not waiting at all.

Rains come and go. Graveside parties for the friends of the trendy and cool sent off too early. All the hope and anxiety that maybe the dead won't stay gone.

Her doubts come and go. Forgetful moments that put the past behind her a little too far. All the hope and anxiety that maybe this will end with a fizzle rather than a bang.

Maybe Tiffany wants to just be.

Maybe she just is too much.

-

The sky is hard and blue. Bruce's eyes mirror it. Ringed in youthful black to pop from his pale sclera. 

'We haven't gotten very far have we?' Batman asks through his tight lipped mouth.

Tiffany shrugs. 'Maybe they don't want me.'

'Ridiculous,' Batman mutters.

'Oh,' she says then, before Tim can think to stop her. 'You think it'd be ridiculous for someone not to want me?'

'I don't understand why that means we-'

'Have to adhere to social norms?' Tiffany interrupts.

Batman gives hers a hard look through Bruce's eyes.

The table cloths flutter in the wind. One of them pushes up against his leg like a hungry cat. On the faces of the stones around them are expressions that mirror Bruce's own face. A cold and stiff familial resemblance.

'I would prefer it,' he says too calmly, 'if others didn't come to this place.'

'Grave side parties are everything in youth culture. Anyone who has dead does it. It's what's in. And if you're gonna deny we have dead you're lying. This is like the biggest family cemetery in Gotham. And if I'm a Wayne they're my relatives in the ground too. Not to mention,' she waves her arm at the massive crater in the unmarked grave next to her, 'I think this is cause for celebration.

'Jason's grave sinking because of the rain isn't a cause for celebration and I wish you would leave this-'

'Oh is that what happened? I thought it looked like he crawled out,' Tiffany argues.

Bruce clenches his fists as he insists, 'It's a sink hole.'

'Regardless it's the social convention. It's how it's done. When the dead are disturbed you party.'

His nostrils flare but he doesn't argue. He can't. He can't blow her cover. 'You'll be cleaning everything up, not Alfred.'

'Fine,' she says.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been stuck on writing this for a while because I sort of painted myself into a corner, but it’s been in off and on workshops with my editor, figuring out where we’ll be going from here and I’m getting pretty close to confident on what the next chapter will be and how it fits into the bigger stage that is Gotham in this story. 
> 
> I’m also planning to do rewrites on Shapeshift And Trick soon if you were also reading that, but those are in much earlier workshop stages.
> 
> Stay tuned because I do still hope to finish this little monster and tie it into a few other Gotham plotlines I have developed.

It's jarring to go from the skirt to the suit. From the tuck to the cup. Slightly more freedom than he's become a costumed to and it almost feels uncomfortable. He doesn't think about it. But part of him does think about the differences in how his partner looks at him depending on who he is. Depending on who they both are. 

Bruce is almost openly hungry. Almost shockingly bad at hiding how his eyes slide down Tiffany's legs. While Batman watches her warrily. As if trying to hold her at a distance. Like he knows it's wrong.

So much different than how Bruce looks at Tim. Like he's a mistake waiting to be made and one he dreads every second. Jumping the second they're in contact. Or how Batman-

Doesn't.

Doesn't look at him at all.

But looks at Robin like he's the answer to every riddle. When he finds the time.

Robin is a tool. He always knew it but it's tiring to be a tool. It's tiring to constantly cater.

They have a good night. They catch one of the men involved in the group and set up a game of cat and mouse to follow up on in the morning.

Batman's glove ruffles over the back of his head as they return to the car. The rough texture in the palm of his glove scraping over the back of Robin's neck as he says, 'Good boy,' softly through his voice modulator.

And Robin has just enough room to shame Tim. Just enough room for blood to flow where it shouldn't. Just enough room to strain painfully for more.

Streetlights out the window slide in and over the source of his discomfort all the way along the bridge back to the Palisades until they drop into darkness in the shadows of the bluffs. 

He can't sit still. He knows without having to know that while Batman may not be looking at him he is certainly watching.

The moment they're in the cave he finds a way to make himself scarce. Batman says nothing as he takes his seat at the computer. The man doesn't look as he goes but Robin knows he's watching. There isn't a place anyone could go in the cave without his eyes on them.

-

Tiffany's skirt cuts at mid thigh despite the temperature. Not that many of the other girls are any more dressed. Bruce watches seruptitiously through windows as guests arrive. Trying to make sure no one defaces his ancestors. 

Or his living relatives.

She isn't interested in bitching him out for it any more though so she lets him.

They trickle in. Holding candles. It's classic. One of the few classics that's never had the occasion to occur on Wayne land before.

Tiffany steps up before Jason's grave with a beautific smile. Lays the toe of her shoe along the edge of the white sheet lying over it. 'Well, I'd like to say it's time to be somber so my dear old Uncle would feel more at peace about it all. But I'm afraid his night time schedule will catch up with him before too long, so don't worry about his long face. This-' she pauses to bend and catch the corner of the canvas so she can reveal the gaping hole underneath. 'Is a party.'

The crowd of teenagers erupts into gasps and laughter.

'Drop the beat Alfred!'

-

She's four drinks in when Karl corners her alone. 

There's a copse of trees between them and most of the party. She'd wandered off to give Tim time to think because he was insisting they were too drunk. Too far gone, getting reckless.

'Hey,' he says.

'Hey yourself.'

'You look. Really good in that dress.'

'I know,' she tells him because she does.

'You know you're the prettiest girl in school?' he asks.

Tiffany's thinking about how Tim's kissed Karl. Sucked him off.

'I know that too.'

He's standing close now, leering down at her, eyes fixed on her chest despite how flat it is which is really just telling but it's making her feel nice so she can't really complain.

'Can I kiss you?'

'Only if you promise not to smear my lipstick,' she tells him.

As he leans in she spots Bruce watching from the balcony, eyes burning through the dark. Watching jealously as Karly's hand slides up her leg.

-

Bruce is waiting for her when she comes in. Dressed down. Black turtle neck. Sweat pants. His eyes are dark. Pupils wide. From the lack of light she tells herself. His hand curls into a fist against his thigh.

'You're drunk,' he says.

She holds up her hand, shoes dangling from her fingers by their heel straps. 'You got me.'

She chuckles as a line of hard air rattles through his nose. He looks like a monster in the dark. Even without the costume. Even with his face bare. Batman's in his eyes and crawling down over his shoulders into his hands. Like he's a werewolf mid transformation but subtler. It looks good on him. It looks terrifying and mesterious and wild.

'Tiffany-'

'Oh like you never get a little tossed at parties,' she interrupts.

'I'm not 15,' he bites but it's her teeth hitting flesh when she drags them over her bottom lip.

'So you're mad now?'

He turns his face from her and doesn't answer. Doesn't say anything. So she presses the advantage.

'Are you gonna punish me?'

His head snaps to her like it's being pulled magnetically. Eyes wide. Nostrils too. And his teeth are showing under his lips. Livid. But pupils still wide as silver dollars against his irises. Incongruent to the rest of his face.

Her eyes flick down and she thinks she can see it. The outline of it in his sweat pants. The vaguest silhouette. Her tongue traces the smudged lipstick on her lips.

But before she can say anything he points up toward the ceiling with all the force of a middle aged father and shouts, 'Go to your room!'

She gives him a cheeky smile as she does. Makes sure to roll her hips as she walks out the door.

-

'He's gorgeous!' Emily croons. 'I don't know how you live with him and don't think about it.'

'He's my uncle,' Tiffany defends.

Sandra pauses touching up her lipstick to say, 'Yeah, Em. Way to make it incest.'

'You're laughing but if my uncle was that rich and hot? I'd do it,' Emily assures them.

'Well,' Tiffany cuts in as she slides her eyeshadow pallet back into her bag, 'I wouldn't.'

'Yeah that bitch has too much class,' she hears Beth say as she makes her way toward history class.

-

Karl stops her after school lets out. Catches her behind the gym where there's not too many people, and asks if she wants to talk. And Tim can remember so much about Karl. How his fists feel. What he tastes like after practice.

'I can't imagine what we'd talk about,' she says, and his eyes cast themselves scant shyly.

'Well I was thinking, a pretty girl like you, maybe I could get your number?' He tries.

'Um, Karl, I'm not a boy maybe you're barking up the wrong tree,' she snaps.

His face goes beat red and she gets the feeling he has to restrain the urge to hit her. Something he wouldn't have bothered to do if she were Tim.

-

Bruce has got that same look on his face when she slides into the car. She throws a leg up on the dashboard and watches that glaze slide into his eyes as they move along the inside of her thigh.

'You're late,' he says.

'Karl wanted to talk to me,' she tells him, tracing a gloved hand up the planes of her leg. 

'The boy you kissed at your party?' He asks coldly. It sends a jolt down her spine.

'Said I was pretty. Wanted to ask for my number,' she adds as her fingers come to the hem of her skirt. She pulls it down rather than up.

The sharp inhale Bruce takes is the only response she gets but it's all the tell she needs. She doesn't have the room Robin does, can't think too hard about the wrong things without it being uncomfortable. But it's almost a kind of uncomfortable she likes and she can't help wondering if maybe he thinks about her when he's alone.

He watches her hand slide up over her crotch instead of the road as he peels out onto the street.

The lack of space is actually comforting. She couldn't cum. No matter what she did, and ultimately that's where it gets dicey right? She's not sure. Tim's the religious one. Tiffany doesn't care as much but he'd never let her go all the way. He doesn't even let Robin have that luxury.

But maybe Emily had a point. She can't not think about it. She can't not want it. Just a little. Maybe a lot. Maybe as much as Robin wants Batman.

-

The phone picks up after the fifth ring. 'Yeah?'

'Emily?' Tiffany asks needlessly.

'Yeah,' Emily repeats.

'Can you keep a secret?'

There's an excited noise on the other end of the line. 'Um! Totally! You know you're like the coolest girl in school.'

'You know what I said in the bathroom?'

'About Bruce?'

Tiffany's fingers twist in the phone cord. The rubber bunching up and rubbing over her knuckles. 'I lied,' she admits.

Emily gasps. 'I knew it,' she insists. 'I knew it! He's too hot there's no way!'

'I think he thinks about it too,' Tiffany says.

'No way.'

'Today, Karl asked me out so I was late to the car. He was. So mad. You should have seen the look on his face. And he wanted to know what was up so I told him Karl asked for my number and I could just smell it you know. Not to mention how he looks at me,' Tiffany gushes. She knows he's probably watching her right now and the feeling is exilherating. She's straining up against her binding.

'Oh my god I'm so jealous!'

'I know I can't believe it. I've had a crush on him since I was little,' Tiffany admits and she can feel Tim's mortification in doing it. 'And he gets possessive, and I just get so-'

'Wet,' Emily insists.

'Soaking,' Tiffany agrees. 'But I can't tell anyone. It's like a dirty little secret.'

'You can tell me,' Emily says. Like it's a promise. 

'Well you know the night of the party?'

'Yeah,' Emily says.

'I let Karl kiss me which is probably why he had the balls to ask me out.'

'Oh my god.'

'Yeah. He was lame. But Bruce saw it. Fuck it was almost like I pissed myself.'

Emily laughs on the other end of the line. 

-

She's too caught up in this and she knows it, but he's starting to get lost in the whole thing too. That Saturday at a press conference his hand wraps around her arm every time another man so much as looks at her. 

She's squirming by the time they're in the car again. Alfred keeps giving her odd glances in the rear view mirror, but she can't sit still.

-

Bruce goes missing the second they're home. She checks the cave three times before finding him there on her fourth round of the manor, sitting at the computer as if he'd been there the whole time.

But it's not Bruce. It's Batman. The dark drapes itself on him like a second cloak, acting almost like a second skin. It ripples as he moves to acknowledge her approach.

'Tiffany,' he says curtly.

'Any breaks in the case?' She asks, sliding up to sit on the desk.

Batman always did love it when Robin sat there, thighs spread just a bit. He'd steal glances. He does now before turning his attention to the computer screen.

'Catch and release turned up a lead,' he tells her, eyes wandering a moment as she crosses her knees. 'We have a location on a meet up he arranged, oracle managed to grab some stills through nearby survailence cameras,' he explains further, leafing through some grainy images of their guy talking to four other guys taken through a warehouse window.

Tiffany pulls her skirt up a bit to see if she can distract him from it.

Tellingly, his eyes wander again.

'Enjoy the view?' She asks and his eyes snap up to hers.

There's reservation in his face. A moment of silence. She eases her skirt up higher. The tightness of the tape between her legs is throbbing. Tim's screaming for her to abort whatever the hell she's doing.

His eyes don't leave her as he reaches out, and lays his gloved hand on her knee. 

She uncrosses it. Lets her thighs fall open so he can see straight up her skirt.

The fingers of his gloves ghost up the inside of her thigh. Rough. The grip on them tickles a bit but she pushes into the feeling anyway. It's good. She can feel Robin practically singing somewhere deep down in her subconscious.

'You look uncomfortable,' he says, the very tips of his fingers ghosting over the outline of her tuck.

She whines. High and long right behind her nose.

'Go take care of yourself,' he says then and it's an order. And it means he'll be watching.

-

Through her panties. Alone in her room. Knowing he's watching. Knowing he's touching himself. She doesn't dare unstuck herself. Tim wouldn't let her. He'd stop her. So she rubs herself through her panties. Like she has a real pussy. Almost pretending.

It feels like heaven. Knowing he's watching. It's too much. She wants it to last forever. Can't bring herself to stop. 

When she cums it leaks out hot, and slow, and ruined, against the lace.

-

The next morning she gets up. Goes to school as usual. Bruce drops her off. Can't look at her in the eyes as they drive but stares at her ass as she gets out of the car then speeds away.

Things are normal. Classes. Small talk. Posturing. Social games.

She doesn't know when they take her. One moment she's at school, eating lunch, gossiping quietly with Emily about things she shouldn't and then the next thing she knows it's dark. Hard to breathe.


End file.
